Druid Hills Home Tour. The tour is held one weekend in April. For more information, go to druidhills.org or call 404-524-8687.

Nothing exudes Southern hospitality more than stepping onto a porch and walking into an inviting home.

For my first trip to Atlanta, I found that visiting houses in three distinct neighborhoods provided a memorable lesson on the best and worst of the region: the stain of segregation, the hope of civil rights, the deadly cost of the Civil War and what modern life looks like inside the walls of a historic gem.

MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. BIRTH HOME

The civil rights leader was born in a charming, gingerbread-looking two-story house near downtown on Jan. 15, 1929. We climbed the stairs for a free tour led by the National Park Service. The federal government has also purchased the quaint homes across the street to preserve the feel of what was once a segregated neighborhood.

We stepped into the parlor and saw the piano where King's younger brother once used a hammer to try to break the keys because he hated lessons. The room where King was born is upstairs. Our guide told us that the Rev. Martin Luther King Sr., who stood 5 feet 6 inches, was so overjoyed at the birth of his first son that he jumped up and touched the 10-foot-high ceiling.

As we stood in the grassy back yard where King played, we heard of King's early years on the block. It was racially segregated, yet economically diverse, and helped shape his future outlook.

A block away from where King's life started is the church where he preached his final sermon – at his own funeral. At Ebenezer Baptist Church, the clock in the sanctuary is stopped at 10:30 a.m. – the time of King's funeral April 9, 1968. It was just five days after his assassination at a Memphis motel. Ten thousand mourners packed the street in front of the church, and a recording of King boomed with a sermon he had given just two months before his death.

Across the street, in the interactive Freedom Hall, I was mesmerized by footage from King's funeral. His widow and children sat in the front pews where we had just stood. The words seemed prophetic. He said that when he died, he didn't want to be remembered for his education or for his Nobel Prize or any other worldly accomplishments. He asked to be remembered for what he had done to love and serve humanity.

Another section explores King's admiration for Gandhi and how his philosophy of nonviolence was shaped by the Indian leader.

I was moved by the guest book where visitors from around the country didn't just sign their names, but poured out what King's legacy means to them.

In a final King exhibit, a shabby-looking visitor center is a quirky mix of tributes and eerie mementos from the day he was assassinated. I particularly liked a faded quilt with scenes from his life on the panels, including a fabric version of his face on the cover of Time. A glass case contains the last overnight bag he ever packed, with cufflinks and a worn Bible, as well as the clunky-looking key for Room 307 at the Lorraine Motel, where he was shot on the balcony.

Mementos of King are sold, along with postcards featuring President Barack Obama.

MARGARET MITCHELL HOUSE

Margaret Mitchell typed the Civil War-era "Gone With the Wind" on a Remington Portable No. 3 typewriter in the sunniest corner of her apartment sitting room in Midtown. She called the tiny apartment she shared with her second husband "The Dump."

For $13, we toured her home, and stood in her bedroom, with a bed that seemed too small for two, flanked by black-and-white family photos.

After the book was published in 1936 and sold 1 million copies in only six months, Mitchell found herself pushed into unwelcomed celebrity. Although she eventually moved out of her tiny Peachtree Street apartment, she never wanted to live on an estate or employ a houseful of servants.

In a museum exhibit, we saw photos from her career as a reporter, handwritten notes on the manuscript, copies of the book printed in a host of other languages and descriptions of the real-life experiences that inspired her fiction.

A special section about the 1939 movie version of "Gone with the Wind" gave my friend and me the much-welcomed opportunity to pick up a copy of the screenplay and act out the final dramatic scene between Rhett and Scarlett ("Tomorrow is another day!").

On a more serious note, I was glad the exhibit tackled the topics of segregation and racism. We learned that the filmmakers, uncomfortable with some of the more blatantly stereotypical racial material from the book, made changes to the movie script. Positive references to the Ku Klux Klan were also removed.

I also never knew that the African American stars of the film boycotted the 1939 Atlanta premiere because the Loew's Grand Theatre was segregated and the black cast could not sit with the white stars. Martin Luther King Jr., then 10 years old, did attend, singing with a church choir for the audience before the screening.

DRUID HILLS HOME TOUR

By happenstance, we stumbled upon a neighborhood event that gave us our truest taste of what Atlanta life is like now, at least in one of the city's poshest neighborhoods. We strolled from the Mitchell museum to the Druid Hills Home and Garden Tour, where we bought tickets for $25.

In addition to the expansive homes and luxury cars, a lemonade stand provided another economic indicator of the neighborhood. We heard the young proprietors announce that all proceeds were for charity.

Five houses were on display, ranging from a 1912 estate commissioned by an early Coca-Cola executive to a 1910 Craftsman with upstairs sleeping porches. We admired stunning gardens, an enclosed outdoor dining room, and large porches cooled by the breeze from swings and ceiling fans. Several of the homeowners, we learned, are doctors at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

At one spectacular estate, the foyer contained a framed drawing of King next to Gandhi. We had come full circle in Atlanta.

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